Some Things Are Meant to be Broken
by monsterXmash
Summary: A wounded stranger wanders into the quarry and finds her place among the group of survivors, but staying with them forces her to break all of her rules. ::: Daryl Dixon/OFC
1. Rule 1: Don't get hurt

**Some Things Are Meant to be Broken  
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Rule #1: _Don't get hurt._

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><p>A wounded stranger wanders into the quarry and finds her place among the group of survivors, but staying with them forces her to break all of her rules. ::: Daryl DixonOFC

_Author's Note: _I know there is a lot of Daryl Dixon fan fiction, but I wanted to try my hand at it. Please review and tell me if I should continue or not! I hope you like it.

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><p>"Wait! Please, I'm not bit. I just need some help, and I'll be on my way."<p>

The group quickly congregated around the stranger who had just stumbled into the quarry from the surrounding woods. Shane was doing his usual patrol around the perimeter when he spotted the person and everyone soon stopped their chores and gathered around. There was blood, a lot of blood, and it saturated the kid's whole shirt sleeve all the way down to the wrist. Shane, with a gun in hand, stepped closer.

The newcomer's jeans were baggy, as if they once fit before their owner lost some weight. They were covered in filth and holes and tucked into a pair of muddy black boots. A plaid shirt was unbuttoned to reveal another shirt underneath, both dirty and too big. The blue bill of a baseball cap cast a shadow over the stranger's face.

"How'd you know we were here?" Shane asked.

The kid didn't even look up from under the cap. "I saw your fire last night."

"I told ya'll it was a bad idea," Daryl scoffed, keeping a finger on the trigger of his crossbow. "Damn fire."

"Somebody check him," Andrea said from the back of the group, holding her sister close to her chest. "See if he has any bites."

"Just shoot the som'bitch," Merle yelled from beside Daryl and took aim with his shotgun. "S'not worth the risk."

Shane turned back to look at the man who just spoke. "You even think about pullin' that trigger, Dixon, and you gonna have to answer to me." Merle let out a snorting laugh and hitched the barrel of the gun over his shoulder. Shane gave him one more warning glare before turning back to the kid. "What's your name, son?" he asked, walking even closer, and put both of his hands up as a sign that he wasn't going to hurt the newcomer.

"Nick."

"Come on, Nick," he replied. "I'ma help you out."

The stranger slowly shuffled towards the man, hand still wrapped tightly around the wound, as Shane led the way towards the motor home. He swung the door open and helped Nick into the vehicle before stepping in himself and closing the door behind him.

-X-x-X-

"Daryl Dixon, can you come here for a second?" Shane called after he stepped back out of the RV. Daryl groaned and rolled his eyes, but sat the crossbow down next to his brother and walked over to the man.

"Yeah?"

"Nick ain't bit, just hurt," Shane told him, and ran a hand through his hair. "I cleaned out the cut, but it's pretty bad. Still needs to be stitched up."

"Why the hell should I do it?" Daryl asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

Shane leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "If I knew how, I would," he told the man. "But right now, you're the only one. And it needs to be done."

Daryl chewed on the skin around his nail bed for a second and looked at the door of the RV. "You sure the kid ain't bit?" he asked when he turned back to the man.

"Yeah." Shane nodded his head and put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I'm sure. I checked."

Daryl looked over his shoulder at his brother, sitting too far away to hear their conversation but staring intently at the two. Merle scowled at them and the younger Dixon looked back at Shane. "Fine, I'll do it."

The officer nodded and thanked him. "The stuff you need's already in there."

Daryl grunted in response, swinging the door open and slamming it shut after he stepped inside the vehicle. Nick was sitting at the small table attached the wall of the RV, head down and hand clutching the wrist of the wounded and now bare arm. The needle and fishing line was already sitting on the table in front of the kid, so Daryl grabbed the supplies and kneeled down in front of the booth.

"How the hell you get yerself hurt, anyway?" Daryl asked, rubbing a glob of sanitizer into his hands.

"I fell," the newcomer told him, "and landed on a broken bear trap."

The man huffed, trying to loop the line through the eye of his needle. He finally got it, then took Nick's wrist in his hand, straightening out the arm. The wound was bleeding again, so he cleaned it up with the towel left for him. He let out another sigh; the cut was ragged and would be hard to stitch. Goddamit, he just got back from a hunt and the last thing he wanted to be doing was closing up a hole in some kid's arm.

Daryl looked up at Nick's face, but the stranger wouldn't meet his eye. "You can stop the act," he said and flicked the baseball cap off of Nick's head with the tip of his fingers. "Took one look at you an' knew you was a girl. Who you trynna fool?"

Nick gingerly picked up her cap from where it fell the table and held it tightly in her hand. "Nobody I don't guess," she said and finally looked at the man.

"Why you doin' that anyway?" he asked, trying to keep up a conversation as he began to thread the needle through her flesh. She bit her lip and closed her eyes tight until the tip reemerged from her arm.

"The world's gone to hell," she finally said. Her voice was quiet and tense as she spoke. "It ain't safe bein' a woman out there anymore. Best that people don't know."

The man gave a noncommittal grunt in response and pushed the needle back through Nick's arm. She gritted her teeth in response. "What you doin' out in the woods?" Daryl asked and pulled the needle through.

"Safest place to be." She stopped and pursed her lips together, lest a sound of pain leave her mouth. Daryl brought the needle back out and she exhaled. "Less people," she sighed. "Less Johns."

"Johns?"

"The - the dead things. No names, no lives. John Does."

"Huh, makes more sense then 'geeks,' I guess," he said, but she didn't respond. He was only halfway done with stitching her up, and he needed to keep her mind off of the pain. "Uh - yer name is uh, Nick, right?" Daryl continued.

"Nichole," she told him, grimacing. "I'm sorry, but can we not talk? I'd rather just get this over with."

Daryl raised his eyebrows and put the needle back through her skin. "Fine by me."


	2. Rule 2: Be wary of the living

**Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! I very much appreciate it! Keep them coming :)**

*** Warning: There is a racial slur in this chapter, so reader discretion is advised. 

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><p><strong>Some Things Are Meant to be Broken<strong>

Rule #2: _Be wary of the living._

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><p>Shane and Jim were leaning against the side of the Winnebago when Nichole descended the stairs and stepped onto the grass. "Hey, Nick. How you feelin'?" the officer asked and pushed himself off of the side of the RV.<p>

"Better," she assured him, wringing her dirty baseball cap in her hands. The sleeves from her over shirt had been torn off, revealing her arm which was bandaged from shoulder to elbow. "Thank you, sir. I was a little - panicked - earlier. I apologize if I scared anyone."

"No need," he said, then pointed over at his companion. "This here is Jim." He then motioned over to the younger Dixon, walking back towards his truck. "You had the pleasure of meetin' Daryl. You up for some more introductions?"

"No," Nichole said gently. She placed the blue cap back on her head, this time not bothering to tuck her hair into it. "I think I should be on my way."

Shane pursed his lips and glanced over at Jim. "You got somewhere to go back to?" he asked the girl.

"I was plannin' on goin' down to Atlanta. I heard some things about a refugee camp there," she explained, lifting the bill of her hat and wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. She sighed. "But even the 'burbs just northwest of the city are overrun - I been through Woodstock, Kennesaw, Marietta, Smyrna. Ain't a thing there but the walkers. I figure Atlanta is just gon' be worse."

"Yer right about that," Jim said. "So where you headed?"

The girl looked down at the grass and shrugged her shoulders. "I'ont know."

"Well, we got a camp here," Shane told her. "It's a modest thing, but it's safe. Safer than bein' out there alone. Ain't seen one walker for miles since we been here."

"All ya'll just stay up here, waitin'?" Nichole asked, looking around at the tents, the cars, the people. It didn't seem too safe. The only thing protecting them was a string of tin cans around the perimeter of the camp.

"Somethin' like that."

"Seems real nice," she said, anxious to be on her way. "And I hope the best for ya'll."

Jim sighed, and crossed his arms, squinting at the girl as the sun moved right behind her. "I understand you don't know us. And you might not feel comfortable here right now. But stay for a couple'a days?"

"Just tonight, even," Shane interjected. "Just 'til we know that your arm's gon' be ok. It'll give me peace of mind."

The man was right. Nichole did not want to stay around all these strangers. She had learned early on that the living were just as dangerous as the dead, and to stay clear of them just as she would the walkers. But she felt she owed Shane. Without him, she might have been dead right now, or soon. She would have bled out, or worse, she would have attracted the Johns.

The girl nodded her head, defeated. "I need to go get my bike, then," she told the men. "And my backpack. I had to leave them behind."

"Ok," Shane said with a smile. "Ok, but someone needs to go with you."

"Dixon knows these woods better than any of us," Jim told him. "Think he'd be up for it?"

Shane scoffed. "Merle or Daryl?" he asked sarcastically.

"Daryl!" Jim said, as if the other option shouldn't have even been an option at all. The men stared at each other for a moment before Shane shook his head and looked at where the two Dixon brothers were sitting.

"I'ont know, Jimbo," he said.

"Well, it's gettin' dark," Jim replied. "We're gonna have to wait until tomorrow, anyway."

-X-x-X-

"What'd he have you do?" Merle asked after Daryl had trudged back over to the truck. The elder Dixon was splayed out on his back over the vehicle's flatbed, hat pulled over his face to shield himself from the evening sun.

"Stitch the new kid up," Daryl replied after he hopped up and sat on the end of the trundle. He grabbed his crossbow from beside Merle and placed it in his own lap.

"What was wrong with him?" the elder Dixon asked.

"_She_ fell and cut open her damn arm."

Merle sat up with a laugh and placed his hat on his head, then gave his brother a pat on the back. "Can't hide tits from a Dixon."

Daryl wiped at a smudge on his bow with the hem of his shirt. "She ain't your type," he told him, not looking at the man.

"What's that 'sposed to mean?"

What was he supposed to say? That her skin was too tan for it to just have been from the Georgia sun? That her hair was too curly, too tangled when it tumbled out of her baseball cap for Merle's liking?

_Daryl thought back, to before the world went to hell, after his brother had just finished fixing up an old '72 cutlass mere days after getting his permit. He had taken Daryl into town to go to the Winn-Dixie, just an excuse to ride around, but his eight year old self thought it was the best day of his life. After raising hell in a few aisles, Merle spotted a woman holding one kid by the hand and pushing another in the grocery cart. They were both darker than her, with thick curls and brown eyes. _

_Merle had grabbed Daryl by the scruff of his shirt. "Come on," he demanded and without another word, he led him out the store. That was the first time they had seen their mom in six years, and she was living in the same damn town. _

_When they got back in the car, Merle sat in the stuffy heat for a couple minutes before turning the key in the ignition. The car started and he let it run while he turned to his younger brother. "Only people worse than niggers," he had said, "are mixed-breeds."_

"Daryl, what's that 'sposed to mean?" Merle repeated.

"Nothin'," Daryl said to his brother with a sigh, "just forget it."

-X-x-X-

"So, Nick, where'd you come from?" Andrea asked from across the fire pit. The girl swallowed the mouthful of food that she was relishing. Squirrel stew was much better than the uncooked ramen noodles and cold, canned beans that she had been living off of.

"I'm from here, just north of Atlanta. Went up to Louisville for school," Nichole explained. "'Bout to graduate, too, if all this ain't happen."

"Four years of life wasted, huh?" Amy said sympathetically. She, too, had been enrolled in school. Two years under her belt and two to go.

"Yeah, it sure feels like it," Nichole said with a small smile. "I was up in Louisville when it uh - when it started. My mom and my dad and my sister where down here, so I made my way south..."

"You had a sister?" Sophia asked and her mom pulled her a little closer to herself and rubbed her shoulder.

"Yeah," Nichole said and nodded her head. "She was 14. A little older than you, I imagine." The girl took another bite of her food. The group was quiet as she looked around. It seemed as though most of the people had someone else; Amy had her older sister, Carl had his mom, Sophia had both of her parents. Even the two Dixon brothers who sat away from everybody else had each other.

But Shane was by himself, though he took care of Lori and Carl like family. Glenn was alone, too, and so were Jim and Dale.

"Ya'll are the most ragtag bunch of people I've ever met," Nichole said with a chuckle, breaking the tension, and the others laughed along with her. She took another spoonful of her stew. Maybe she would stay.

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><p><strong>Next -<strong> Rule #3:_ Avoid traveling in pairs._

**What are some of _your_ zombie survival rules?**


	3. Rule 3: Avoid traveling in pairs

**Some Things Are Meant to be Broken**

Rule #3: _Avoid traveling in pairs._

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><p>"Careful 'bout the trap," Nichole warned and pointed to the jagged metal jaws, half covered by fallen leaves and other debris. She stepped cautiously around it and picked up the abandoned baseball bat that she had dropped the day before.<p>

Her companion was a man of few words. Except for the snap of twigs underfoot and the occasional call of a bird, the trip through the wood had been a silent one. She had led the way through the trees, him following, finger ever ready at the trigger of his bow behind her.

Nichole held the bat between her knees as she produced a pair of leather gloves from her back pocket. She slipped them on, then grabbed the slugger, but before she could take a practice swing, Daryl stopped her.

"You gon' bust them if you do that," he told her while grabbing a stick from the forest floor. The girl looked bitterly at her bandaged arm. "I ain't sewin' you up again."

Daryl jammed the stick in the middle of the bear trap, prompting it to snap close with a metallic crash. Nichole jumped in surprise. "Som'bitch," the man swore, examining the now broken end of the bough. "It was workin'. Yer just lucky. Didn't hit the hinge when you fell on it."

Nichole gently rubbed her wounded arm. "No tellin' how many of those are out here."

"That means watch where you goin' for now on," Daryl said as he walked past her. "Where's the bike?"

The girl rested the baseball bat on her shoulder and pointed to her right. "That way, I think," Nichole told him. The man only grunted in response as he began to trek through the brush. Nichole was taking one more sweeping survey of the area when she heard Daryl's voice echo in the air.

"What the hell is _this_?" he yelled.

Without a second thought, Nichole hurried through the trees, the crunching leaves below her feet too loud for her liking, as she came to an abrupt halt in front of the man. "What? What happened?"

"It's a bicycle," Daryl said sharply, pointing to the item in question leaning against the side of a tree. The girl looked at it, then back at the man curiously. Though he stepped closer to her, his voice got louder. "You have me trudgin' through these woods for a damn bicycle?"

"I said I had to come back and get my bike," Nichole told him.

"I though you meant a motorcycle or somethin'. Not no gimp bike."

He exhaled gruffly, picking up the bike with one hand and holding his weapon in the other, then started heading back. "Damn bicycle," she heard him mumble, followed by a string of other things that was too low for her to understand.

Nichole rolled her eyes and knelt down on one knee, fumbling through the backpack that was left at the base of the tree. She peeled off her recently sleeveless button-up and stuffed it in the bag, along with her baseball cap, both which served only to heat her up more in the already sweltering weather.

"You comin' or not?" Daryl asked, having doubled back and was standing in front of her once more.

She sighed and sat on the ground with her back against the tree. "You go on," Nichole told him as she settled the backpack in her lap and began digging through it again. "You can leave the bike if you wanna."

"Ain't you mighty comfy," Daryl said irritably and let the bicycle fall to the ground, "out here where just anythin' can come get you."

Nichole snapped her head up and glared at the man. His unwarranted attitude had not bothered her up until now. "Hey! Be careful with that!" she practically yelled, but then quieted herself when she remembered where she was. "It brought me all the way from Louisville."

She gave Daryl one more ill-tempered glare as he leaned his back against a tree opposite the girl. Nichole brought her attention back to the bag and unzipped one of the side pockets, finally finding what she was looking for. She produced a half-empty pack of cigarettes and flipped the top open. Daryl considered them, chewing on the corner of his lip, as she took one out.

Nichole took the glove off of her right hand and laid it across her thigh. "You want one?" she asked when she caught him staring at the opened pack.

Daryl nodded his head. "Haven't had one for days - with these selfish bastards 'round here."

Nichole took another one out and placed both between her lips. She lit a match, then the cigarettes, taking a short puff, and removed one from her mouth. She reached her arm up to hand it to Daryl as he walked a few paces to her to take it from her fingers.

He took his first drag even before he arrived back at his tree, savoring it like a drowning man would oxygen. He leaned against his tree and scanned the wood before he would allow himself to relax. This seemed almost normal. And it _almost _made him happy - to be doing something as simple as smoking a cigarette and being able to actually enjoy it.

"You really rode that thing from Kentucky to Georgia?" Daryl asked the girl, smoking billowing from between his lips.

"Yeah, it's a good bike," she said, looking back up at the man, "when it's not being thrown on the ground."

Daryl glanced sheepishly at the bicycle that laid on its side in the leaves, but could not muster the humility to pick it back up. "You came here with anybody?" he asked, taking another gratifying drag of his cigarette.

"Just me and Louie," Nichole replied. The knob of her aluminum slugger was cupped securely in her palm as it stood up straight beside her, the tip digging into the soft earth.

"Maybe I should get me one of those," Daryl said absentmindedly. "A good bat could come in handy."

Nichole thought it was a good idea. Her slugger had certainly served her well. She had wandered through three states and hundreds of miles to get to where she was now with just that and a knife she had picked up along the way. "Well, if anything should happen to me," she told him, "you can have it."

Daryl flicked the bud of his cigarette on the ground. "If anything happens to you," he said, "it ain't do you no good, so I'ont want it."

Nichole had to chuckle at his surprisingly thoughtful logic, but disagreed with him. "It's not the weapon," she replied, "it's how you use it." The girl pointed at the bow dangling from Daryl's hand as she spoke. "I couldn't use that crossbow like you do."

The man looked down at his weapon, then at Nichole. Before he could even process the words, they left his mouth. "Maybe I could teach you one day," he said, then grumbled inwardly.

"Yeah, that -"

Before she could finish her sentence, Daryl shushed her. His body tensed and he put a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet, then pointed to something in the distance. Nichole slowly twisted her body around so she could look over her shoulder and behind her tree. A John was stumbling between the wood, unaware of their presence. She looked back at Daryl who had already cocked his crossbow, and he had barely put his eye to the scope before an arrow as released and lodged deep in the walker's head.

The man gestured for Nichole to stand up, and she did, as quietly as she could on the leaf covered ground. She left her bike and her bag once more, but held her bat tightly in her hands. Cautiously, they walked over the the John and Daryl pulled the arrow from his skull.

"Do you run across many out here?" Nichole asked looking at the motionless corpse.

"Sometimes," Daryl replied. He wiped the arrow on the walker's dirty jeans, then took one more glance around the wood, looking to see if John came with any friends. Nichole did the same.

"But Shane said that there ain't been none up here."

"How would he know?" Daryl said bitterly. He slid his arm across his sweaty forehead. "It was two others, and I took 'em out. Then this one. No need to worry everybody else."

Nichole nodded her head and they went back to retrieve her supplies. She slid the backpack on her shoulders, careful not to disturb the wound on her hurt left arm. Daryl picked up the bike for her and they tramped back to the camp in silence.

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><p><strong>Thank you for the reviews! They are appreciated and definitely motivate me to get the chapters out quicker!<strong>


	4. Rule 4: Avoid altercations

**Some Things Are Meant to be Broken**

Rule #4:_ Avoid altercations._

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><p>"Glenn has been gone for a while," Nichole said from her seat atop the RV. "Shouldn't he be back by now?"<p>

In the lawn chair beside her, Shane shook his head. "He's been gone longer than this. Hours before. He always makes it back."

"It's already been hours," she replied, scanning the area around her. The two of them had been atop the Winnebago since Glenn left that morning, Shane teaching the girl how to watch the camp if ever she needed to. They day had been fairly uneventful, and Nichole wandered if everyday was like that at the quarry. Being stationary for a while was better than riding her bike for miles everyday on the highway. And sleeping in the tent she had been lugging around was better than stringing up her hammock high in the trees, not being able to really sleep in fear of falling and finding herself in the hands of some waiting walker. But now, she was bored and the only thing left for her to do was worry.

And now her concern was directed towards Glenn who had been gone for much longer than she thought he should have been. Shane obviously wasn't worried, and neither was anybody else. The kids - Sophia, Carl, Eliza, and Louis - were playing with Uno cards under Dale's watchful eyes. Andrea, Amy, Lori, and Carol were all at the lake doing laundry, something Nichole was very grateful for because she didn't realize how ragged she must have looked until she actually got around other people. Merle was lounging in the flatbed of his brother's pickup truck as always and Daryl was only a few paces away, wiping down his already clean crossbow.

The sun was now directly overhead, bearing down on the Nichole's back and shoulders. Shane had offered to go get her the umbrella from inside the RV, but she said she liked the heat. She had learned to appreciate the things that she took for granted in her past life. The girl adjusted the baseball cap on her head and glanced up at the city's skyline in front of her.

"If he was havin' a problem, he woulda radioed us," Shane assured Nichole as he watched her anxious movements. The girl nodded her head in agreeance and scanned the camp once more. She picked up the binoculars sitting between the man and herself and watched as a white van drove up the path towards the quarry.

"What is it?" Shane asked her.

"Looks like a church van," she replied. "It says Atlanta New Baptist on the side."

Before she could even finish, Shane was already down the ladder and making his way towards the vehicle. Nichole followed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and putting the binoculars down where she was sitting. She walked slowly to where everyone else was congregating. Daryl and Merle were the first people on the scene, watching and waiting as the van park beside another car. Dale tried to stand in front of the kids, but Carl had snuck his way from under his arm and was walking towards where Shane was at the head of the group, shotgun in hand as he watched the people exit the vehicle.

"Hey, bud," Nichole said as the boy made to pass by her, "how 'bout you stay here with me? Keep me safe?"

Carl smiled and agreed to her request, stopping to stand beside her with his head now held a little higher. To Nichole's relief, Glenn was the first out of the car, hopping from the driver's seat with the goofy grin that was ever-present on his face. Another man followed, stepping out of the passenger side and sliding open the back door so a woman could get out too.

"You aight, Glenn?" Shane asked and the man nodded his head.

"He helped us out of a tight spot," the woman explained when she saw everyone's curious stares. "We couldn't be more thankful."

"This is Jacqui," Glenn said loud enough for the whole group to hear. He then motioned towards the man. "And this is T-Dog."

"Somebody should check them, to see if they have any bites," Morales said from the front of the group. Nichole took a few more steps forward to get a better look at the strangers, Carl close in tow. They didn't look hurt - just tired and dirty. And a hot meal couldn't hurt.

"We don't need nobody else 'round here," Merle called. "Best ya'll take that old van and go back to where ya came from."

Shane turned to the man and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'ont think you got the right to make that decision," he said.

Merle pushed through the crowd of people until he was right on the other man. Nichole watched Shane's gun arm tense as he studied the approaching Dixon. "How I see it," the man said, "is we got two and a half too many people here."

"If there's somethin' you wanna say, you needa say it," Shane said and a rustling came from the crowd as Daryl walked between a few people and took a couple steps towards the two men. Nichole stole a sideways glance at him, wondering what he was thinking of doing, but Daryl didn't notice. All of his attention was on his brother and Shane.

"Bad enough I gotta stay here with spics," the elder Dixon told the officer, "I ain't livin' with no coons, too."

Nichole realized he was talking about her just as much as Jacqui and T-Dog, her being the extra half he was referring to, but she stayed silent. Daryl was restless beside her, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and then finally stepping forward again. T-Dog was now standing infront of his companion, shielding her from Merle and the rest of the crowd.

"Maybe you should go," Shane suggested, "if you feel that way."

Now they were practically nose to nose, and the group looked on in silent distress as they sized each other up. Merle laughed at the officer. "No, man. I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Maybe we should just cool down for a while," Nichole said. A fight wouldn't do anyone any good, and the guns in both men's hands unnerved her. Merle turned from Shane and stared at the girl. He laughed even louder.

"Why should I listen to someone like you? Touched with the tar brush, ain't you?"

Nichole glanced at Merle's weapon, then gripped her own bat tighter in her hand. If he chose to use his gun, she would have no way to defend herself, but for now it was dangling casually from his hand, so stepped a little closer, gently pushing Carl back into Dale's waiting grasp. "What's that 'sposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means your white trash mama spread her legs for some nigger, that's what," Merle told her.

Daryl and Shane moved toward the man at the same time, Shane reaching him first and giving his chest a hard shove. "That's enough," he growled. "You need to go on and cool down like Nick said. Go on!"

The younger Dixon tried to grab his brother's arm, but he pulled away from him. "Let's go," Daryl said. "It ain't worth it."

Despite how it seemed, Daryl was comfortable where he was at. In countless miles and he doesn't even know how many weeks, he had only seen three walkers around the camp - and he despised walkers more than anything. And the people weren't so bad, if Shane learned to mind his own damn business and Merle could keep his mouth shut. The new girl wasn't so bad, either. She gave him a cigarette, expecting nothing in return. That was the first nice thing anyone had done for him since the world went to shit. Hell, the first nice thing anybody had done for him for longer than that, really -

"There's only two people left in the world," Shane yelled, pushing Merle back again, "the livin' and the dead. That's it! And you can be either one, it don't matter too much to anybody here I wouldn't think."

Merle's face turned red as he pursed his lips together and then brought the butt of his shotgun up to hit the other man in the face. Shane stumbled back for a second before he lunged back at the Dixon. The guns were knocked from both of their hands in the fall, and there was a fury of wailing limbs as they hit the ground.

Daryl tried to pull Merle off of Shane, but the elder cocked his arm back and elbowed his brother in the nose, causing blood to flow from it in a dark red rush. Now Shane was ontop and the other men from the group were pulling the fighters apart. It took both Daryl and Jim to restrain Merle, and Morales and T-Dog had to work together to hold back Shane.

"Get off me!" Merle yelled and broke free of the two men. "To hell with all ya'll! And you, too," he said as he pointed at the brother. "You 'sposed to have my back."

Daryl wiped at the blood still flowing from his nose with the back of his arm, but didn't say anything in return. Merle shook his head and bent down to snatch up his gun from the ground beside him. Everyone took a cautious step back as he stared at the group, then turned away to walk towards the woods.

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><p><strong>Don't worry, there will be much more Daryl in the next chapter. Please review!<strong>


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